


The Balcony

by TimeTurner



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Creepyshipping, F/M, Fanfic is such a thing Sansa would do, He is no good but i love him, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sleezy Pete, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, but there is certainly porn, there IS a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 20:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10601784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeTurner/pseuds/TimeTurner
Summary: Petyr checks his mail inbox and finds something out of ordinary. An email from the beautiful 17 years old Sansa Stark, whose impressive blue eyes and fiery red hair have been printed in his memory after they met at the Christmas party of the company in which he works with her father, Ned Stark.Curious, he opens the message. Its contents are not at all what he was expecting, but this one is a surprise the man is happy to receive...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VerneWildel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerneWildel/gifts).



> Okay. Omg, I am nervous.  
> Some notes:  
> This is not the very first fic I wrote, but it's the first one I finished in english, so please, go easy on me :P  
> Which leads me to the fact that english is not my mother language, so forgive me in advance for any rude mistake I might have made. Feel free to tell me what you think or anything.  
> I hope you enjoy!

Sansa’s hands were shaking from the effort of keeping herself together. Part of her wanted to laugh at the mischief of sharing the story with someone. The other part, which the young woman admittedly thought sound way more like her usual self, wanted to scream, curve in a ball and create any excuses for not sending the damn email. She had written that only for her own amusement, for the pure reason of knowing she could. Certainly, Jeyne would never be able to spot the source of her inspiration, but  _ she would.  _ She had tried to forget all of that nonsense. She had clicked on 'delete’ several times. The truth, however, was that she was too proud of herself for finishing the text. And, truth be told, she was proud of the final result. She was not so proud of herself for letting slip to her friend that she had written something like an erotic story during the winter break, for, the second the words had left her mouth, she knew Jeyne would demand to read it. 

She let go a resigned sigh, attached the archive at the email and typed P for  _ “Poole”. _

Closing her eyes so she wouldn't lose the courage, she hit  _ Send _ .

When Sansa opened her eyes to check if the message had been sent, she felt the air leaving her lungs abruptly.

_ “Fuck! What have I done?!” _

 

Petyr arrived home, took his suit jacket off, loosened his tie and poured himself a shot of whiskey. He glanced at his correspondence and threw it over the side table without a further look on his way to his home office. The office was practically the only room in his home that had some personality. The rest of the apartment was most certainly luxurious, but the lack of colours and personal traits made it look inhabited. Which was close to the truth. Petyr had good taste, but the time he was not at the company he would most likely spend at his office. Unless he was asleep.

He set his glass at a coaster on the dark wooden desk, turned the radio on and sat at his comfortable chair. 

He opened his email page, where he knew his secretary, Ros, would already have filtered the ones he actually needed to read. In fact, the list was way shorter than he knew it would have been without the woman's interference.

Paying attention at it's contents for the first time, he realized something was off. The newest email on his inbox at the end of the day would always be a message from Ros summing up the messages she had kept and the ones she had deleted. This time, however, there was two messages delivered after Ros’, which meant they had arrived after the woman's departure. Checking the timestamps,he saw that they were sent a minute apart from each other. What made him more curious, however, was the sender name. He clicked on the older one.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

**To: Petyr Baelish**

**From: Sansa Stark**

**Subject: Stupidity**

  
  


Hi. So, here it is. It’s stupid and silly, and if you mock me I won't ever speak to you  again.

Sansa

___________________________________________________________________________

Under this odd line he noticed a symbol indicating that one archive had been attached to the message. He wondered what the girl had meant. Then he remembered calling her a girl would be more than a little imprecise. Sansa Stark was a woman, even if law didn’t recognize it yet. He remembered giving her his business card some time ago, but he never thought she had kept it. The knowledge that she had made him smirk. Maybe the redhead was not completely willing to forget about the man her parents had clearly recommended her to stay away. His smirk grew bigger. 

Curious, he clicked on the attached archive to see a text opening in front of him. Petyr had no clue what was that about, but started reading it in no time.

 

**_The Balcony_ **

 

_ Alayne was bored. Even though she knew she had to accompany her family to the ball, she felt like she didn’t belong there. All the nobles looked at her like she was a child, especially knowing her parents so well, and nothing she could do would convince them that she was already a grown woman, who knew what she wanted for her life. After taking a look around the ballroom, she decided she needed to take some fresh air. _

_ She found a double door leading to a balcony, and happily noticed it was unlocked. When she opened them, the cold air of december touched her face and invaded her lungs, making her feel alive. She didn’t have a coat on, but she didn’t mind the bite of the cold. She approached the balustrade, setting her hands atop the cold white marble. Most people would complain about the weather, but Alayne felt the winter most invigorating. She stood there for a time that could have been infinite, observing the white covered silhouettes of the trees in the gardens below, lightened only by the full moon. The wind blew at her hair, making the dark strands loose from her carefully made braid. The breeze also made her pale pink silky dress sway around her, and she felt like she could fly away. _

 

Petyr read this part and felt a kind of deja-vu. He was almost sure he had already read or seen a scene like this before. A girl looking almost like an angel in the winter night. When had it been? Where had he read it? The image was forming in his mind, but he felt he couldn’t quite place it. His curiosity about the reason the older Stark girl had reached him to share the text was growing, so he resumed reading it.

 

_ Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear when a man joined her at the balcony, standing almost beside her. She only acknowledged his presence when his  rich voice spoke to her, _

_ “It’s a pretty picture.”  _

 

Of course! Petyr now was sure he had not  _ watched _ the scene. He had  _ lived _ it. He had met Ned’s elder daughter alone in the  balcony outside the party room where the company’s Christmas party had taken place. With her dress flowing around her, she had seemed almost ethereal. He smirked once more. For some reason, Sansa Stark had sent him a description of their very last encounter almost exactly how it had happened. He went back to reading with renewed vigour.

 

_ Startled, she turned around  to face the source of the sound. She came across a man she hadn’t met before. He was not very tall, she could see, but something made him look majestic. His well tailored black suit shone in the moonlight, contrasting with his perfectly white shirt, against which she could see a dark green cravat. Nested on his collar was a silver pin of some kind of bird. Looking at his face, she saw his  hair was perfectly trimmed and dark as the night itself, except for the temples, where silver intertwined. What impressed her the most, nevertheless, were his eyes. They had a mesmerizing shade of green, but when she looked better, she could see silver intertwined on them as well. _

_ Sheepish, Alayne averted the gaze from him, turning to look back at the landscape.  _

_ “Yes,” she replied “it looks so pure.” _

_ “It most certainly does,” his deep voice commented. _

_ “I love the way the moonlight on the snow makes everything look precious.” She glanced at his direction and saw when he looked at the garden below, like he had just noticed it there. _

_ “Yes, very beautiful indeed.” He said looking back at her. His grey-green eyes shone like he was keeping a secret. _

  
  


Petyr smiled alone in his apartment. Thas was not how the dialogue had went, but the beginning was extremely precise. He had left the crowded party room, moving to the balcony with the intention of smoking a cigarette. When he saw the stunning redhead, who he knew to be Ned Stark daughter, however, he was completely distracted of his plan. “It's a pretty picture.” He had said. Only he wasn't talking about the snowy garden. The memory was enough to sent a jolt of warmth through his body. At the thought of her flaming red hair framing her ivory skin, highlighting her cerulean eyes, he noticed she had changed the color of her hair on the story. He couldn't fathom why, but it was not like she would have been less attractive that way.

 

_ “I don't think we were introduced. I am Alayne Stone.” The brunette offered her hand, expecting the fancy man to shake it lightly.  _

_ Instead, he took it in his and bent slightly to brush his lips on her knuckles. The contact made her cheeks burn. _

_ “I'm most delighted to meet you, miss Stone. You have a beautiful name. It fits you perfectly.” The warmth on her face spread to her neck at the compliment.  _

_ “Thank you, Mister… you never said your name.” Alayne complained. The man chuckled. His eyes looked darker. _

_ “Oh, your name is so much prettier, let's not ruin this moment with mine.” He smirked. Alayne was frustrated at his answer, but something led her to comply.  _

 

He was loving to read this. It felt like knowing for certain her exact thoughts about their interaction, instead of guessing them from her expression. In reality, in that cold night last december, he had really kissed her knuckles in an almost mocking chivalry. But, after the young woman said her name, Petyr gave her his, searching her face for any sign of recognition, finding none. The Starks had kept his name out of family conversations. What a shame. He remembered thinking that he would need to mark it on her brain himself. Maybe he had been successful. Despite the lack of a name, the man on the piece had his exact description, even  his mockingbird pin portrayed.

 

_ “So, what are you doing here alone when there is a party happening inside, miss Stone?” the man asked her, finally leaning against the parapet so that he was essentially facing her. _

_ “Call me Alayne.” the young woman said in an automatic answer. She had always hated when people called her for her surname. It made her feel like the family she was born into was more important than the fact that she was her own person. _

_ “Okay, then, Alayne.” the lean man consented looking at her with intensity. Alayne noticed his eyes travelled around her body, making her feel naked. The realization sent warmth through the very same body he seemed to admire at the moment. _

_ “I…” she began answering “was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all those people. I don’t know many people here, and my parents were busy.” she finally confessed, feeling stupid. Now that she had said she was with her parents, he too would take her for a child, ruining her chance of a real conversation. _

 

Petyr remembered this part of their chat. Sansa had, innocently, believed that he wouldn’t know who her parents were. Little did she know about the story. He had known Ned for longer than he would have liked, and Cat for almost his entire life. He decided not to share this piece of information with their daughter, however, if nothing, because he knew Eddard would be furious if he ever found out who was his precious little girl talking to. Which eventually happened, to Petyr’s deepest satisfaction.

 

_ “What about you, why are you outside?” she returned his question at him. He thought for a moment, as if deciding what to say. Finally, he opted answering. _

_ “I was feeling a bit overwhelmed myself.” to which he flashed her a smile that made his unique shade eyes look greener. “Where would you want to be rather than here?” he asked her with genuine interest in his voice, very different from the usual questions she would receive, about her learning and where she was going after school. She noticed he was a little closer than before. She swore she could feel the heat emanating from his body to hers. Swallowing with difficulty, she looked away once more before answering. _

_ “Anywhere I am not seen as my parents child.” her voice was just a little over a whisper. _

 

Sansa had told him she was tired of being the good daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark, for it made everyone remember the little girl she was once, instead of acknowledging the woman she was becoming. He had told her that she did not look like a child for him, but, before either of them had the chance of saying anything else, Ned had barged into the balcony searching for Sansa. At that moment, Petyr understood perfectly what the young woman had said about feeling like a child. Ned had commanded for her to get back inside with him the moment he realized she had been alone with his co-worker, as innocent as the conversation had been. With a small bow, certainly to reply to his kiss in her knuckles a bit earlier, she said her goodbye. “Thank you for your conversation, mister Baelish.” her eyes met him at his name. He took her hand in his once more, kissing her fingers lightly, while slipping his folded business card in her palm. “Call me Petyr.” He had said before her overprotective father took her away. Their encounter had finished there, but he could see for it’s length that her story had not. Enthralled, he kept reading, knowing he would read until the very end.

 

_ He approached her even more, and Alayne felt warmth spreading through her body, even more intense than before. His hand touched her chin gently, turning her head so her blue eyes looked directly at his. She felt a change in gravity. In that moment, that pair of grey-green eyes were what held her down to earth. His voice was huskier than before when he spoke.  _

_ “What I see is beautiful woman, Alayne.” Then his mouth descended on hers, his lips touching her in a feather-like manner. Her body instinctively pushed on his and she let out a very low moan. Encouraged by her reaction, he let his arms snake around her body and deepened the kiss. Her mouth opened to him and his tongue invaded the warmth of her mouth with ability. The kiss was sweet, but Alayne could feel the hunger underneath it. Her body felt magnetically pulled to his, the heat becoming almost unbearable. His hands started caressing her lower back and she knew he felt it too. _

 

Petyr had to re adjust on his chair. This was too good to be for real. Had Sansa written a version of that night where he actually got to kiss her? To feel her perfectly shaped body trapped between his arms? To hear her moanings at his ministrations? He felt the immediate pressure at his groin at the thought. He had wanted to kiss her, to touch her,  maybe press her against that damned balustrade, since the moment he had seen her standing on that balcony, her back turned to the doors and to him. The imagination made him groan, the pressure inside his pants getting worse. 

 

_ Alayne let her own hands reach for his midnight color hair, pulling at the short strands eagerly. Their kiss grew faster, hunger, more desperate. They kept exploring each other while their tongues battled for control. When they broke the kiss, both of them were panting. _

_ They looked at each other, neither of them willing to separate their bodies. Alayne saw a blazing fire burning in his eyes, whose color now was coal black. She flushed, realizing her own blue orbs were probably showing the same desire for this man she barely knew.  _

_ Never letting go of her body, he whispered on her ear.  _

_ “A breathtaking woman, in fact.” Alayne almost didn't understand his meaning, but she remembered the last thing he had said before kissing her.  _

_ “Thank you.” She replied, feeling more than dizzy. He chuckled once more, and the woman noticed she rather enjoyed that sound. _

_ “No, thank you, sweetling. You are the highlight of my night.” He murmured, biting softly at her ear. _

_ Alayne moaned again, and her hands caressed his scalp. The man grunt against her neck and she felt her desire pooling between her legs.  _

 

Petyr could still not believe his eyes, but his body was having no trouble at all imagining the scene. He could almost smell her scent, the wetness between her creamy thighs. His cock was already painfully hard, so he opened his breeches and took it in his hands.

 

_ “Do you want to go back inside, miss Stone?” The way the man said her name, at the same time his right hand traveled down her back to rest almost at her bottom, didn't feel bad. It felt wicked, in a most delightful way. _

_ “Not at all.” She whispered against his own ear, partly to provoke him, partly because she couldn't trust her voice. _

_ “Good.” He growled covering her mouth again and cupping her buttocks. This kiss already started heated and, in a second, his hands were gathering the light fabric of her dress and pulling it above her waist. Alayne felt the cold air touching her cheeks, but that only made her moan against his mouth. His skillful hands cupped her bare ass and massaged it, always getting closer to where she wanted them, but never fulfilling her wishes.  _

 

It was getting harder to concentrate on the reading as his hand kept moving along his engorged member. He would never have thought possible for him to get off while reading. Especially not while reading a short story written by the epitome of purity, Sansa Stark. He got back to reading, slowing the speed of his movements in order to pay more attention.

 

_ He pressed her against his body and she felt his manhood hard and hot rubbing in her thighs. His lips moved away from hers to suck on a pulse point on her neck. Between each little suck and bite he teased her.  _

_ “Do you see what you do to me, Alayne? That's almost unacceptable.” His hands kept circling her ass, getting dangerously close to the wetness on her underwear. Her ability to speak had left her completely, and all she could do was moan at his touch. _

_ Suddenly, he turned her body in his arms so her back was firmly pressed against his chest. She felt the heat of his body through the fabric of his clothes. His hands cupped her breasts over her pink dress. He squeezed them and she felt her nipples hardening. _

_ “At least I see you are not in a much better state, my dear.” He chuckled on her ear. _

_ “Please…” she murmured softly. _

_ “Please what, Miss Stone?” He teased a bit more, one of his hands running down her stomach slowly. _

_ “Touch me.” She pleaded pushing her backside on the hard member between his legs. The man groaned, tangling his fingers on her dark hair and turning her head impetuously to kiss her roughly. _

 

Petyr was getting closer. The feeling was almost too much to deal. At each line he read, he could put himself in the place of the man on the piece and the author in the place of the not-so-innocent brunette. The things described were very close to the things he had imagined doing to the Stark girl at the occasion of the Christmas dinner. Especially after, when his hands had trailed down his own body and he found his pleasure imagining using each of his senses to absorb her. His hands on her ivory skin, feeling the slight texture change as goosebumps took over her, his nose buried deep at those impossibly red strands, the smell of her arousal coating his fingers, the taste of her perfectly shaped lips. The unique flavour he knew she would have when his mouth covered her core… All that had been a powerful fuel for his movements. Reading what  _ she had written _ however, was much more. This way, it felt like she was telling her own version of how she wanted the night to go. It felt like she was there, encouraging him to keep pressing against her, to keep taking her as his. He resumed the reading in an almost feverish manner.

 

_ His left hand snaked past her stomach while the right kept a tight grip on her head, lips still unite. Alayne moaned in his mouth when his fingers trailed the hem of her knickers, and whimpered when they overcame the scant barrier and touched her wetness. Never letting go of his grip, he pulled her against his hard member and circled her sex with his skilled fingers, making her lose the sense of reality. The wetness and hotness at her center grew, and he took advantage of the fact to press a finger inside of her. She yelped, breaking the kiss. Her breathing was becoming shallow, and she had to hold on the balustrade in front of her for support. His other hand circled her right breast, massaging it with synchronized movements. She felt her body tensing and knew she was close to her blessed relief and, for the way his lips descended on her neck, biting it roughly enough to leave a mark, she knew he had noticed it too. However, he slowed his motions, making her groan in frustration. _

_ “Please.”’ she asked again, almost begging, her voice no more than a whisper now. _

_ “Please what, my dear? Ask and you shall receive.” he answered suckling on her earlobe. _

_ “Make me come.” she half pleaded, half ordered, turning her head to say it directly on his ear. _

_ “That’s my girl.” he complimented, adding pressure on her hardened nerve and at her already sensitive nipple. The change was enough to push her over the edge, and she would have screamed to the winter air had he not swallowed her sounds. _

 

Petyr took a large gulp of his whiskey, that had been forgotten over the desk, trying to numb him a bit so he could finish reading. He wanted desperately to come, but for some reason he felt he needed to finish the damned text first. Easier said than done. He drank the rest of his drink and withdrew his hands off his shaft, as difficult as it was.

 

_ After she came down from her peak, Alayne pressed herself on his body for comfort. Almost surprised, she felt the fabric of his black slacks being pressed on her bare ass by his still hardened member. She turned a bit on her feet, reaching for his belt buckle. His hands covered hers, and, instead of aiding, he stopped her tries. She looked at him, confused. _

_ “We don’t need to do anything else tonight, Alayne.” his eyes looked at hers and she saw concern. _

_ “I want to.” she assured him. “I want you to take me. Make me yours for tonight.” he saw she was sure of what she wanted, so he agreed. He kissed her intensely, holding her hard against his body. His hands returned to the hem of her panties and this time he put the piece down. She stepped out of them easily, and her her hands reached for his fly, where she was finally able to free him, taking him in her hand. He hissed at her touch and turned her again. Alayne immediately hold herself on the balustrade, waiting for him. He caressed her cheeks almost with reverence, then bent a little to let his member rub on the slickness at her entrance. Alayne threw her head back when she felt him aligning with her center. _

_ “Are you sure you want this?” he asked her again. _

_ “I do. Now.” she commanded hoarsely. _

 

It was impossible. Petyr simply couldn’t keep his hands off his cock imagining Sansa’s little pink cunt opening, begging him to possess her in a public balcony, where anyone could catch them on act. The idea had him thrusting against his own hand, imagining fucking her.

 

_ The man thrusted in her in a long, fluid movement, making them both gasp. Alayne felt completely filled, in a most delicious way. He started moving, slowly at first, giving her the chance to adjust to the feeling. After some time, she found the pace hardly fast enough. She arched her back, her right hand reaching his nape, pulling at his hair. She saw his effort to keep it slow on the way his brows were twitched.  _

_ “Don’t hold back.” she asked softly.  _

_ He started moving faster and harder almost instantly, and his grunts felt very aphrodisiac on her ears. His hands pressed hard on her hips and hers hold on the balustrade for her own life. She knew she would have marks of this encounter on her skin tomorrow, and she liked the idea.  _

_ “I am so close again, oh, my-” she exclaimed when he pressed a particularly pleasurable spot inside of her. She started murmuring disconnected words at each of his thrusts, and his breathing were becoming more elabourate. _

_ “Don’t stop now, please.” her voice broke. _

_ “I would never.” he grunted through clenched teeth. _

_ His voice sent a shiver down her body and soon she was tripping over the edge once more. This time, she couldn’t help screaming loud and the sound would have been his name, had he given her it. Her climax triggered his and, with one last deep thrust he spilled his seed within her, her name leaving her lips like the prayer of a dying man.  _

 

Almost at the same time as the man who was a alternative version of himself orgasmed, Petyr found his own relief, the feeling much more intense than he had felt in a long time. Even more than the orgasm he had on the night that had inspired the piece. His breath was labored, he felt a layer of sweat covering his entire body. The girl could write. And she had a hell of a good imagination. He wondered if she had used the touch of some other man to describe his and a irrational fury took over him for a second. He went back to the ending of the text to distract his mind of the possessive feeling towards the woman.

 

_ After their breaths got back to normal, the man put himself back inside his pants and helped Alayne recompose herself. When he noticed her searching for her white knickers, he smirked at her with the piece in hands. She went for it, but he kept them out of her reach.  _

_ “These are mine. Unless you want them so bad you come find me for them.” he pocketed the white piece and leaned for her hand. He took it in his, planted a chaste kiss on her knuckles and solemnly said: _

_ “I was an immense pleasure to meet you, Miss Stone.” he stood erect, smiled mischievously at her and went back to the ball room. When he crossed the doors, she felt something on her palm. Opening it, she saw a black business card. There was no name printed on it. Just the figure of a bird and an address written in silver letters. Alayne knew, deep in her soul, she would go through hell to find that mysterious man. She put the card on her lingerie, holding on to it as if her life depended on this. Maybe it truly did, in the end. _

 

_ Sansa Stark _

 

Petyr read the final of the text while he felt his body functions normalizing. After he was feeling almost himself again, he cleaned the mess he had made while lost in the thought of her, poured himself another shot f whiskey and returned to his chair, in order to open her second email. He was very curious about the content of this one. Especially after he read the subject. “Urgent”. He wondered what the redhead could so urgently want from him. He clicked on the message and a smirk spread on his face when he begun the reading.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

**To: Petyr Baelish**

**From: Sansa Stark**

**Subject: Urgent**

 

Mister Baelish, please, ignore my last email. Really, I was planning to send it for a friend, but I accidentally hit your name on my contacts list. 

It’s just girlish nonsense, don’t waste your time, just delete it.

I am sorry again,

 

Sansa Stark

___________________________________________________________________________

 

He noticed how the words she used to refer to him were much more formal on the second message. He was sure she was being sincere. She had never meant for him to read any of that. Which only made him cherish the masterpiece even more. He was convinced he had just received and drowned in some of Sansa’s deepest thoughts. The young woman was always in his thoughts, even when he urged her to keep from rising to surface, and now he had the impression himself was in her mind as well. He couldn’t stop himself from smirking and clicking _Reply_ on the second message.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

**To: Sansa Stark**

**From: Petyr Baelish**

**Subject: Urgent**

 

Too late, I’m afraid sweetling. I’ve read  _ all _ of it.

But don’t worry, I would never describe it as a waste of my time, au contraire, I would say it was very amusing.

 

Petyr

 

PS: I am available for the real deal. If interested, you know where to find me.

___________________________________________________________________________


End file.
